


The Marauder's Horcrux

by Limited_Edge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anyone else wonder at the strange and powerful capabilities of a map created by four teenage boys, Arthur Weasley knows what's up, Gen, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain, The Marauder's Map, Well kind of Marauders era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limited_Edge/pseuds/Limited_Edge
Summary: The Marauders wanted to leave behind their mark during their seventh year of Hogwarts- something tangible, to impact generations to come. The map was a good start, but it wasn’t enough. In the wrong hands, it could be ruined, and some silly personality charm couldn’t live up to the full Marauder appeal.Honestly, it was Remus’s fault for coming across the work “horcrux” while studying for his newts.





	The Marauder's Horcrux

**Author's Note:**

> Cause let's be honest- a sentient map capable of tracking down anyone in the castle regardless of whether they have an invisibility cloak, are under polyjuice, or are in the form of an animal is kind of sketchy.

The first true inkling Fred and George had that the paper they had nicked from Filches office was special was when it survived George accidently spilling draught of living death on it.

Before this event, the two second years had assumed it to be a particularly clever piece of sarcastic paper, with fake personality oozing insult and strangely intuitive prank ideas. Growing up in a world magic, they hadn’t really questioned that the paper had four distinct personalities. Nor had they wondered why the paper goaded them to call Snape a greasy bat, or gave them, quite frankly, fantastic pranking ideas (the trick with those sheep had been _brilliant)._ It had been a little odd that the paper was so gung ho about them ‘completing the eleven sacred tasks’ and ‘carrying on the marauder legacy’, but then again Fred and George’s great uncle had a clock that constantly clicked out in Morse code something about secret Russian spies, and how JFK was actually shot by wizards, or something.

No, it took for the paper to not shrivel into a ball of sludge for Fred and George to think twice. Now second years, they were infinitely more wise then the first years who had stumbled upon the paper in Filch’s office. They had their heads straight, and the paper’s suspicious survival could only mean one thing.

“Probably possessed,” George helpfully supplied.

Fred nodded as he idly watched the surrounding table that had been splashed by the draught of living death smolder and burn. “Yeah, probably. Do you think it can be blackmailed to give more prank ideas?”

“Worth a shot!”

The paper couldn’t be blackmailed- it called George and Fred wannabe ‘Snivellus’s’ when they tried. It could, however, be argued and reasoned with. It just took gratuitous compliments to Padfoot, acting all shy and innocent to Moony, and agreeing with Prongs that Evans definitely had the hots for him.

Wormtail just liked being noticed, the sap.

The paper had conditions for further use. Over the course of Fred and George’s second year, they carried out the paper’s nefarious will, pranking Slytherins to kingdom come and jerry-rigging enough traps that the collective house of Hufflepuff always had at least six members hanging from their ankle somewhere in the castle. The pay-off was a password that revealed the paper for what it really was- a completely kick ass map that probably broke national privacy laws, and likely the rules of magic too. Wasn’t Hogwarts supposed to be untraceable? How had the Marauders gotten such detailed tracking charms working with the halls of such old magic?

Regardless, Fred and George were quite pleased with their possession of likely dark origin. Life worked out for the better, and Moony especially was helpful as they looked more and more into potion making.

And if Fred and George were originally only mild trouble-makers who had somehow been transformed, slowly but surely, into master pranksters, well, that couldn’t be considered a downside, could it? Mom was right- you did learn valuable life skills at Hogwarts, from the strangest of places.

**XXX**

In their third year, the map revealed a strange obsession of its own: none other than The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter.

The map practically spasmed in Fred and George’s hands when they opened it for the first time that year after the feast. In a manner it had never done before, it did _not_ open itself to reveal the map when given the password. Instead, the marauders stuck around- and they had questions.

 _Harry Potter? Any relation to that dashing, charming bloke, the one and only James Potter?_ Prongs asked.

 _Reolace dashing with pigheaded, and charming with idiotic, then yes, same question,_ Padfoot added.

 _I didn’t realize Evans was_ also _in the map,_ Moony replied.

Wormtail just left a flurry of question and exclamation marks across the page while Prongs rebuked with frantic attempts to preserve ‘James Potter’s’ image, and finished with a frantic question of whether or not Harry Potter was a fantastic flyer.

Fred and George exchanged a warry look, before telling the map, yes, he’s James Potter’s son, yes, he’s the boy who lived, yes, they met him on the train, and no, they didn’t know if Harry knew how to fly, though probably not, considering he seemed to have been raised with muggles.

The map stopped responding for a moment at that. It was Moony, who finally asked, _Why was Harry Potter raised by muggles?_

It was eerie, how the map gave no response while Fred and George explained the deaths of Harry’s parents, James and Lily Potter, the terrible betrayal from their closest friend, and the defeat of the dark lord.

The map didn’t respond for a long time, actually.

When it finally did, it was Wormtail, tentatively scrawling out, _At least Evans came around, huh?_

The other Marauders did not respond. Instead, the map suddenly went blank. No matter how many times Fred and George tapped their wands against the parchment, it refused to reveal its secrets. It was silent, closed upon itself.

It would be a month before it returned to working condition, with the Marauders strangely cheerful, and never again asking anything pertaining to Harry Potter for the next year.

Fred and George, wisely, did not mention this.

**XXX**

The end of their fourth year saw Fred and George looking at the map in a new, darker light.

The map had not changed. Hence since its seclusion in their third year, it had returned to its joking and cheery self, helpful and prompt. It was no different than when Fred and George had found it years ago.

It was the twins who had changed. Neither of them mentioned out loud exactly what had them so on edge- they didn’t need to say aloud things like that to know what the other was thinking- but part of their reason for not openly discussing what was on their minds was because of the map itself- the map which, even when not charmed awake, had always seemed to know what was on Fred and George’s minds- had always known their pranking plans without them ever saying them aloud.

“Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain,” their father’s words echoed.

Ginny’s cold hands holding on tightly to theirs while she recovered in the hospital wing remained in their heads, and neither of them could ever forget the blank look in her eyes.

Without discussing why, neither of them used the map for the rest of the school year.

**XXX**

Fred and George were not children anymore. They were not naïve enough to think that a piece of paper that could read their minds and come up with intuitive (original) ideas was innocent. They had, ever so casually, brought up the topic of possessed items with Bill, under the cover of being concerned for Ginny’s well-being. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but it wasn’t the full truth. How could it be, when that map of Hogwarts had been in their possession (and they in its) since they were only twelve?

It could have been worse. For all their newfound clarity and wariness, they both knew that the map wasn’t evil. It had never incited them to actually hurt someone, and nor had it done something as nefarious as control their bodies. It was almost tame.

…Almost.

Reassured by Bill that possessed items always had set ‘goals’ and ‘purposes’ from their master(s), Fred and George reasoned that the map was a leftover ‘prankster spirit’. The map’s will extended only so far as a good joke, and was, ultimately, harmless. They returned to the map in their fifth year with these thoughts firmly in mind (always in mind to assure themselves all was well). As always, the map was a fount of knowledge and advice, a grand guiding beacon to light the way to the pranking soul.

It was also curious, once again, about Harry Potter.

It wasn’t anything untoward. It simply inquired, now and again, about the tales of Harry’s adventures in the castle. It applauded the boy’s guts and bravery, raucously (in writing) laughed about Harry being a fantastic snake hunter, and commended, again and again, his quidditch ability.

The map never said it aloud- obviously, what with it being a map- but Fred and George still understood the intent. The map wanted a new owner.

Fred and George held out against its sway. Even as the map became slightly temperamental, opening less and less for them, and only when the mood struck, they did not entertain the thought of giving a likely dark item to their brother’s best friend. Harry may be the boy who lived, but he shouldn’t have to handle this. Sure, Harry had already proven himself capable of handling dark objects- sure, Harry was smart and resourceful- sure, the map clearly genuinely like Harry- sure, Harry may need the assistance of a massive map of Hogwarts that could help him evade danger- sure…

…Where was the ‘but’, again?

(Oddly enough, Fred and George never, not once, thought about handing the map off to a teacher.)

**XXX**

Giving the map to Harry was an impulse that immediately brought relief.

Unlike in previous weeks, the map flourished open easily under Harry’s touch. The messrs didn’t even stick around for commentary. They were simply at Harry’s service, ready and waiting to help him navigate the castle.

From what Fred and George understood, Harry never had to engage in massive and numerous pranks, nor bargain with the Marauders. The map handed itself over with hardly any fuss.

Fred and Georgestill kept a constant eye on Harry in the coming months, but thanks to his apparent lessons with Lupin, the boy seemed to be doing well. He did not spontaneously change in personality. He showed no more inclination for pranks than he had previously- which was, to say, none. Harry was completely and utterly himself.

“…Do you think the map… may have… _changed us?”_ Fred asked one night.

George did not respond right away. He simply turned to face his twin, and quietly said, “Doesn’t matter much now, does it? The damage is done.

“We are who we are now.”

Fred swallowed, and nodded. He never brought up the matter again.

Strangely enough, Fred and George didn’t perform as many pranks in the coming years. They began to look more towards business, opening their time instead for more potion and spell creation.

They fondly thought of the marauders, and in their own way were thankful to them for setting them down the right path and teaching them more useful life skills then their teachers ever had. The map had made them the people they were now, mostly for the better.

Yet the never asked Harry if they could use the map again.

**XXX**

Harry’s interactions with the map were drastically different than the twins. He did not talk at all with the Marauders. They did not daudle, or interfere with his purpose in using the map. Unawares to Harry, however, though he may have never payed the map any mind, the map payed him plenty.

Even after finding out that Prongs was actually his father, Harry made no attempts to hold something like a conversation with the map. Harry did not grow up in a magical world, like the twins. To him, a map was a map. It may have been sarcastic to Snape, but he had no delusions that any true piece of his father would actually be contained within its depths.

James Potter was dead. And that was that.

The only question Harry ever distantly had about the map was how the twins had not noticed that a strange man masquerading as Scabbers had been sleeping in the same room as their brother for years. It astounded him, momentarily- then, he had letters to Sirius and an imminent summer with the Dursleys to worry about. He didn’t think of the topic again. If he had bothered to ask Prongs, or any of the other Marauders about the topic, he would have had the answer.

The Marauders never showed Peter to the twins- unless one was aware of them already, the map didn’t reveal its members to outsiders.

(Yet it had immediately revealed all of its secrets to Harry).

**XXX**

Beyond being a useful tool, the map played no more part in Harry’s life. Its sentience didn’t fade, exactly, but it was forgotten. The map was a map, and nothing more.

And yet, within the pages- somehow, if one were to simply enquire- they would be able to converse with the exact likeness of any of the original Marauders. Likenesses that, strangely enough, could think, and come up with ideas. They did not go through the motions. The inked words that they could spell were expressive, and full of life.

Even after Harry died, and his great-granddaughter left the map behind in Hogwarts for the next generation of pranksters, the map lived on.

The Marauder legacy continued on.

**XXX**

“…but it seems crazy dark,” Remus amended. He waved a hand. “A Horcrux probably isn’t the answer.”

Sirius nodded, and kicked his feet up on the table. “Yeah, I remember a few books in the Black family library going on about those. Performing some dark ritual to split the soul, corrupting life to live eternal, blah blah, dark arts, blah blah crazy ancestors being stupid and bonding themselves to pieces of jewelry.”

“Do you think Evan’s would go out with me if I stopped asking her out?” James interrupted. Remus and Sirius whipped their heads down towards where James had flopped on his back on the floor, hand idly holding an icepack to his blackened eye while he squinted up at the ceiling of their dorm room.

“Holy shit, Evans must have knocked your head good for you to start talking sense,” Sirius sniped.

Remus squinted at James, and the motion pulled the reddened scratches on his face into tight lines. “Definitely brain damage,” he agreed.

“Tossers,” James halfheartedly groaned.

Peter, from where he was sitting next to Remus at the small table in their room, hummed as he inspected the book Remus had brought before them. “I don’t know- Horcruxes do seem kind of messed, but we could always tweak them to not be so dark and terrifying and soul destroying.”

Sirius gasped. “Dearest Peter, you’re not suggesting tampering with dark magic, are you?” He pointed at Peter with wide eyes. “Heathen! Terror of terrors! Peter’s road to becoming a Death Eater begins!”

Remus snorted. “As if,” he replied, and even Sirius and James gave a light chuckle at the thought. Peter smiled, but didn’t laugh. Remus squinted again at the book between himself and Peter. “Though…” he pondered. “It’s not a terrible idea. We’ve tweaked spells before. This could be a fun challenge.” Remus looked up at Sirius. “Do you think you could get those books from your house?”

“Fat chance. Disowned, remember?”

“You _could_ ask Regulus to get them,” James offered.

Sirius hissed. “That slimy backstabber mummy-loving piece of snakeshit? Absolutely not!”

“Sirius….”

“No.”

“ _Siriuuuuuuussssss…”_

“NO!”

**XXX**

“No pranks on me for the rest of the year, and you tell me where in the damn house you hid those bits of shrimp so I can get rid of them before they keep stinking up the house.”

“…In the pantry, behind the lefthand cupboards door, stuffed in mom’s sock drawer, and about ten of them in the living room and in the basement,” Sirius grit out. He handed over a sheet of paper detailing out the locations of his lovely ‘going away cause you kicked me out of the house’ presents. He glared at Regulus, who primly folded the piece of paper and gently tucked it into his pocket. “The books?”

Regulus squinted at Sirius for a moment, before snorting and saying, “And you call me the dark wizard. Those books were actually grade A _evil._ Even worse than mum’s series of bodice-rippers from the sixteenth century.” Regulus shrugged, and bit out, “But of course you would set a double standard.” Remus waved his wand, and suddenly the books were dumped in Sirius’s arms.

“At least I’m not a death eater!”

“And at least I’m not a freeloader at the Potter’s.”

“Says the one still sucking on mom’s tit.”

“Says the one about to have no future.”

“Says the one whose going to die being a minion in a bullshit war!”

The two brothers glared at each other a moment more. Regulus was the one to turn away first, and he stomped back in the direction of his dorm. Sirius watched him go with pursed lips, but he made no moves to follow the younger teen.

Sirius turned instead back towards the dorm.

**XXX**

Two months later, after tampering with rituals of most dark origins, and engaging in blood magic over the prized map they had created in their fifth year, the Marauders accomplished that which had never been done before.

An almost Horcrux hosting the imprint of four distinct souls- indestructible, and ready to forever leave its mark on Hogwarts after they had left its halls.


End file.
